Recently I received a flyer in the mail inviting me to a clergy workshop that promised to help me "cope creatively." It’s being conducted by a friend of mine, a priest of faultless intentions, and will be given by a presenter known nationally as an expert on what the brochure calls &

I was standing in the doorway, looking at the clear blue sky on an icy cold January afternoon, when she came up the stairs. I hadn’t seen Irene in over six years, but I had been thinking about her a lot recently. She was coming up from a diocesan meeting my parish was hosting in the church hal

How many times have I uttered those words, sung those jubilant words at Mass, and paid scant heed to their meaning? I’m a poor singer, so mostly I just fake them, scarcely letting a sound escape from a tight mouth and heart. I’ve probably concentrated more on the hairdo of the woman in f

Several years ago, while I sat at my desk one morning at Continuum, an AIDS agency in San Francisco where I served as executive director, the phone rang. The caller identified herself as a secretary to the First Lady and asked if I would come to the White House for a community leaders’ forum l

When I was little, Saturday nights were often spent sleeping over at Grandmom’s house. I loved these Saturday nights; she was the perfect grandmom, bubbly and doting and willing to spoil us with Lucky Charms cereal until we were sick. She was also a devout Roman Catholic, so Sunday mornings al